WARNING: This is a very serious theme, if you don't like it then walk away."Bullying drives some into a corner, it drives them to believe that the worst choice they could ever make is the better, for they do not deserve to live. They are too ugly, too stupid, too weird or just unique. They are driven by the ones who wish them bad. But what would happen if you, a bullying victim, took your life to later wake up at the exact same spot to notice that you are now a ghost, bound to watch your family and friends cry out in agony for their loss..."

We are
the ones who wrongedWe areThe OutsidersEvery child goes through a hard time growing up, they make friends, they fight and they make enemies. But what seems to follow them until the day they die is jealousy and envy. No one is perfect and that's why hatred exists, to never let us be completely pure.
Year 2017 was the year that most people took their life between the ages of 16 to 24, bullying drove them all into a corner, made them feel all alone and one day it all was just too much. And at the time dying seemed like the only opinion to get away from it all, leaving their families to cry in agony for weeks or maybe months.
But dying didn't give them peace. Instead they all realized when they opened their eyes after dying that they now would live through the same thing again, for they were now haunted by their pasts as ghosts that wonders the earth, unseen by those who are still alive. They would see their own burial and they would see the pain in their beloved peoples eyes. They would regret their decision, but what they had done would not come undone. For now they would see how their families would tackle the loss of one who fell victim to bullying. Now they would see the eyes of the people who made them take their lives, they would see how it affected them, how it would turn them wicked and how they would fight to recover. But in the end they can never forget the last day they saw those pair of broken eyes that had lost the will to live.
The afterlife is a second chance, for the bullied to see life in a different light, but recovering from their pain isn't easy, accepting that their decision of taking their own life was the wrong one and that fighting was the right one. So now they are trapped in this place between life and death. They are ghosts walking among the living but to never be seen by the living. But there are those who see them, for they aren't alone. There are those who have been ghosts for a longer time than they have.
Those who also had taken the choice of suicide.
It's an unspoken rule in this ghostly life that one day if your heart truly understands the pain you caused for the ones closest to you and that you should fight instead of giving up you will be freed, you will be reborn.
You get a second chance at life.

Rules:Iwaku rules apply.
PG-15, no sexual acts will be seen in this role-play, or else! D< (act out these in private chats instead of being publicly displayed to younger eyes)
Be nice to everyone and show respect to your fellow role-players.
Be as active as possible.
Try to get your grammar as correct as possible.
Put emotions into your posts since that's what will keep this role-play from being completely boring and grey.
Ask me questions if you have any.~
If you haven't finished your character within one week I will give you a warning, if another week passes without any notification to why you haven't finished your character you are not a part of this role-play anymore.
If a character is made I expect you to use it within three days after it's done.
If you've finished a character after reserving a post for quite some time post a new message in this thread that you're finally finished.
If you're going to be absent for couple of days please post it here in this thread as soon as possible.
Enjoy your time in this very dark and emotion-packed role-play.
And please do remember that anime pictures aren't allowed in this role-play, that is to keep this role-play as realistic as possible. Thank you for understanding.(The last one can be changed if the majority of the role-players are against this rule)

Character Form:[Your username]
[Appearance]
Full Name:
Age & Birthday: (Remember that the year is 2017)
Eye Description:
Hair Description:
Height:
Weight:
Piercings: (If there is any)
Markings and Birthmarks: (includes tattoos)
Special trait: (Be original)
Personality:
Biography: (The normal life before everything happened)
Bullying story: (What happened to him/her, tell us as much as you can of what happened that turned his/her life upside-down until the day he/she did it)
Likes: (at least 5)
Dislikes: (at least 3)
Favorite song: (Everyone has at least one)
Other: (anything else you would like to add that is of importance)

Age & Birthday: 17, March 18th, 2001
Eye Description: Eddy eyes, are hazel that changes a little lighter in the sun light.
Hair Description: a little bushy but a bit wavy as well
Height: 5''9
Weight: 120
Piercings: (If there is any) On both of his ears
Markings and Birthmarks: (includes tattoos) birthmark one on his thigh and arm
Special trait: His sympathy
Personality: Kazuki is a gentle person, always looking forward to help people in need, always willing to anything to make people happy. That can also be his downfall, he always thinks there good in everyone and there's hope if you just chose the right path. Because of that he was pretty noticeable and popular in some people eyes but he only had a good set of people in his circle.

Biography:

Bio(Move your mouse to reveal the content)Bio (open)Bio (close)

Kazuki lived in Tokyo, Japan. With his grandmother, mother and father. He was the only child so, he was pretty much spoiled. His dad owned a anime, toy store company. So he was able to get any toy or game he wanted. As he grew up, he slowly started to ask for less and less stuff. He pretty much became independent. The reason why he didn't want his dad could get him since he thought it would be better if he worked for it. Kazuki life in Tokyo, Japan was like a wonderland to him, lots of food and books. It was easy for him to make friends. Good was happening to him until.

His dad, had go to america for his job, he had partner up with america companies. He wanted his toy store and anime stores to keep growing and making more money. If his family lived in america he's able to make more money for his family etc. Kazuki Didn't want leave his grandmother be hide and his friends. But he had to, he was forced. He knew Japanese people talked and treated badly Americans so, he already knew they would treat him badly and different. He had no choice but to follow his father lead. Once he got there, it was different environment to get use to. He was only 14 teen when, times were good so far, he found a small group of people who loved anime and Japanese culture so they were so happy and interested in Kazuki stories, times were good but ya know good times don't last not for long.

Kazuki was originally from japan, he came here to America when he was about 4 years old, school was ok until he got to middle school. He was bullied, the school he went to didn't have any Japanese people so he was considered to be an outcast. He was bullied on a daily basis, they even had schedule who gets to bully him on that specific date. He was bullied until last year of middle school. They paid a little prank on him when he was doing a concert for band, they put jelly all over his instrument. He was forced to not participate in the concert because of it What made it worse, he was one of the lead players in the band in his section so in his mind, even though he wasn’t playing if they failed he would be responsible. Once he got into high school, he thought the bullying would stop completely. Oh boy was he wrong. It got even worse they even had a gang of bullies for the main purpose of bullying him. On this special day, things ended badly. It was Kazuki birthday he was celebrating his birthday with some his friend, the bully gang barged into the party and started to destroy everything and. They mostly furniture, drew on pictures of him and his family. Most of his friends ran away at this point. Some stayed trying to defend Kazuki home, but the bullies started bullying them and drove them away. The bully gang smirked at, now everyone gone. None was here to defend or protected him form them. They started to tease, harass, until they got tired of it, this went on about 10 or 15minutes. Once they heard his parent’s car coming up the drive way. They started running away, telling Kazuki they will be back. His parents came seeing the house ruined. His parents were really mad, Regardless of how Kazuki face looked, bloody noise, black eye, scratches. His parents punishment him by taking away his trip, he was going go to japan to visit his grandparents and go to a concert. He tried tell them it wasn't him. They told him he was responsible, they told him to be careful and don’t mess up the house. He tried to tell them it wasn’t his fault it was fine before the bullies came and wrecked it. He thought whatever he said wouldn’t go through to them. He sighed, he couldn’t take it anymore, their steric rules and this bulling. He had enough, he went up to his room, grabbed a piece of rope and tied it to the ceiling fan. He thought he shouldn’t live at all, everyone lives would be better and his soul will be at piece finally. He hung himself, slowly coming to his death.

Eye Description: Marcus's eyes are very deceiving. To everyone else, they make him look like he is always sleepy, his eyes have faint bags under them. He has warm dark brown eyes and short unkempt eyelashes.

Hair Description: Marcus has short curly hair, kind of like a small afro with long curls.

Height: 5'11"
Weight: 140 lb
Piercings: N/A
Markings and Birthmarks: He has a small birth mark on his wrist in the shape of an oval.

Special trait: Marcus has a knack for feeling the mood of a room or a person. He thinks of it as just a fun past time, but in some occasions it has helped him avoid bad situations.

Personality: Marcus is seen as a confident, charismatic, man with a plan. Although his look can be deceiving, Marcus is loud and funny He acts like a gentleman and always thinks outside the box. But he uses this only as a mask, on the inside, he is an emotionally scared young man who tends to push people away with accusing words and is very secretive. He acts like a gentleman and always thinks outside the box.
Biography: For the first few years of his school and outside life everything was good. His father and mother both had a high paying job that allowed them to be home with there child. Marcus was given what he wanted as long as he worked for it, he would do his chores, help his mother in the kitchen, even finish his homework just so he could get whatever it was that he wanted. His school life was also great, he had plenty of friends that liked him, he was doing well in school, and his teachers encouraged him to work hard in school and get into a good college. Marcus did a lot of things, he was interested in playing sport, but he also played D&D with some of the kids in the library. He loved to try new things, even though some people looked down on some of the things he indulged in. But he did not care, and he made the people he played with know that.

Bullying story: Unfortunately, things turned sour quick. His father lost his job and his mother had to take over the paying of the bills. Eventually, she was overwhelmed by the stress and took up drinking. His father did his best to help her but all there attempts proved futile, and his mother died of a heart attack in 2011. His father fell into depression, but did his best to provide for his family. Marcus feel into depression also, his grades plummeted and he stopped talking for a while. Fortunately, he was able to break free from the shackles of depression, but his father was unable too, and his father committed suicide in 2015, two years before his own death. During the last 2 years of his death he was bulled despite his charismatic attitude. Those who were his friends just 2 years earlier in middle school became his enemies. He was beat up regularly but always mad excuses to those around him and his broken father. One day Marcus simply had enough, he wanted his mother and his father, he wanted to get away from all of those who constantly picked on him. So he made the choice to take his own life, but we know what happened after that.

Likes
+Trying new things
+Lemonade
+People he can trust
+Girls
+Being in the know
Dislikes:
-Bullies
-The untrustworthy
-Stupid things that he ends up doing

Favorite song:
Other: (anything else you would like to add that is of importance)​

Eye Description: Some have stated that her eyes are in the colour grey, but others say that they are silver.
They are fascinating and a great conversation starter, if the person looks into her eyes that is.

Hair Description:Her hair is naturally blonde, just as the rest of her small family. Unlike her younger sister and brother, Amelie has curly hair just like their father, who has blond curly hair. They used to say that if he let his hair grow as long as Amelie's they would look like they were twins. Which makes her offended so she uses the straightening iron quite often, since she hates the curls.

Height:5'4

Weight: 110 lbs

Piercings:One in each ear.

Markings and Birthmarks:On her left shoulder blade there's a big mark that looks like a perfectly round circle.

Special trait:

Personality:Some might say, that Amilie was the sun in life, for she always shone and brought joy to those around her. She laughed often and she also showed how much she cared for those around her. She always helped out those who needed it most, for some she was seen as the perfect girl, but that wasn't the case. On the inside she was alone, she never showed anyone her true self, just a mirror of what her mother and father wanted to see. The perfect girl, the perfect daughter who helped her parents no matter what and shone like the sun for she was never depressed, nor was she ever angry.

Biography:Amelie was born into a family of three, a loving mother, a strong and caring father and herself. The joy of life, the daughter her parents had dreamed about for months as they had planned what her room would look like. "Pink or White?" A wife asked her husband a week before their little baby would arrive. The wife was not like her neighbor, no, she would never be able to have children. She's sterile. So with a little help, they had gotten in contact with a woman that had agreed on caring their child, a surrogate mother.

On the 16th of February 2000 they had gotten the call, the call they had been waiting on for 8 months, their child was to be born. Their baby girl. When the wife held the little life in her arms for the first time she truly felt like it was her child she was holding. Even though the baby was screaming and had just been whipped off all the blood she could see the similarities, the baby looked like her husband so much, so it wasn't hard for her to love her little daughter.

As Amelie started to grow, they noticed that she had her father's curls, the wife, who was now a mother, was overjoyed every time when her 5 year old daughter came running towards her with her golden locks being carried by the wind. But it was at that time, that the wife, was pregnant. 9 months later she gave birth to a pair of twins, a baby boy and a baby girl. Lukas and Beatrice.

Growing up as the older sister Amelie felt the pressure of proving to her parents that she were mature, patient and obviously better than her younger siblings. She kept her room tidy, cleaned the dishes, sometimes cooked for the family and she made sure that her grades were acceptable, they were never perfect but they were acceptable. But there was something that Amelie was bad at, making friends. But who would've known that making a friend would be the end of her.

Bullying story:It was one day at school, Amelie was walking down the hallway as usual, walking to her next class: Math. She hated math and she was pretty sure that math hated her as well. That was when she noticed what was going on behind the corner towards the gym. She saw one of her classmates, the one who turned away from everyone and anything. So instead of turning around and pretend like she hadn't noticed the other girls pulling the poor girl's hair she walked quickly and almost rushed towards them. "Stop it!" She screamed at them as she pushed away them from the girl. The girls glared at Amelie, then one of them snorted at her. "You're lucky this time, but the next time will not be this happy." The group of eight girls left the two alone. "I'm so sorry Amy, if you just hadn't seen this..." She was able to say before she started to cry, Amelie held her arms around her, for she knew what was coming for her.

The very next day, Amelie had decided to meet up with the girl, Eve. They were going out shopping, just the two of them for Amelie felt like she wanted to spend some time with Eve. And maybe she would be able to get a friend in the process. She did, but after that weekend was over their entire life turned upside down.

Eve and Amelie has become best friends very quickly, they spent their school days together and the weekends together. But when Amelie had gone to the bathroom she was confronted by the girls that had kicked and pulled Eve's hair the other week. "Look at you, trying to befriend the bullied girl, how cute of you, maybe you should feel how we treat those who are lower than us" The girl smiled evilly and the others surrounded her.

Usually passive but, I have moods where I like being the aggressive one.

Favorite Genres:

Magical, Modern Fantasy, Fantasy, Romance.

[LalaToyko]
(Before)

(After)

Full Name:Emily Rose Miller

Age & Birthday:March 22, 1999 (18 Years)

Eye Description:Strong Hazel Green

Hair Description:Light Dirty Blonde, Mid-Back Length

Height:5'4

Weight:105

Piercings:None.

Markings and Birthmarks:Large Facial Scar, Stitching Scar on her Chest & Rib Cage, Usually has lots of Bruises and Cut Markings on her Arms & Legs (explained in bio & story.)

Special trait:Many Insecurities, That She Calls Her Demons That Tell Her Those Harmful Things.

Personality:Before everything happened, Emily was a creative, sweet, and happy kind of gal. She was kind to everyone. But everything turned for worse when a traumatic experience ruined her poor life. She grew quiet and tired, bags always under her eyes. She grew away from all people and her thought went after her, leaving her quiet, scared, and suicidal.

Biography:Emily was one of the most sweetest people you could ever meet, she always thought of others before herself. She had millions of friends, but she wasn't 'popular'. People didn't like her for her put on the scale of high school but, for her wonderful personality, or maybe.. Just her looks. Emily was the most gorgeous girl, she was always getting requests but, always turning them down sweetly, saying she didn't need a lover at the moment. Once her beautiful face changed, so did her 'friends' too, and everyone around her...

Bullying Story:One sunny morning, Emily was walking her way to school. Usually one of her friends would come a pick her up, but it seemed everyone had turned her down. She hadn't gotten a car yet, the insurance or even buying the car on its own was too expensive. Emily didn't mind, she felt it was nice to get fresh air every once in a while, she thought it helped the mind. She was 16 at the time, still sweet and beautiful as ever. Emily stopped at the nearest intersection, looking up at the stop light, waiting for it patiently to turn green. The light quickly signaled her to cross and she smiled, almost thanking the light in a nice way. She held her book bag tightly on her slim shoulder and headed across the street, not rushing, knowing that's not what you're supposed to do. Soon, the light noise of a car approaching, got too loud for comfort and Emily turned her head, not fast enough to see a speeding car flying down the road, ignoring the red light and ignoring Emily. In one flash, the car slammed into her body, forcing her head through the glass windshield. The glass lodged into her face and the impact instantly made her vision and mind go black. Quickly the young man swung his door open, running to front of his car to see poor Emily, passed out with a face fill harsh glass, deep into her flesh, and a couple of broken bones. Others from different cars raced out, someone calling 911 and all of them gasping in terror at the horrible sight. Soon, police cars, firetrucks, and ambulances came to the scene, quickly packing Emily into the back of the ambulance and sending her to the hospital.

Dozens of doctors and nurses rushed Emily into the hospital, checking every single inch of her body. She had broken 4 bones, both of her arms, most of her rib cage, and her right leg. It wasn't looking so good for Emily, many of them thought or knew she was going to die. They all worked their best to mend what they could and finally, things relaxed when she was set up in her secure room. Millions of different machines, tubes, and gadgets were attached to weak and fragile body. Her family came as fast as they could, scared for their dear daughter's life. Her family consisted of her older brother Kevin (23), her Mother, and her Father. The doctor told them one person was allowed to go into the room at a time, even though Emily was still blacked out, they didn't want to crowd her with too many people yet. The first to go into the room was her Mother, the two were two peas in a pod. They were almost like best friends and Emily was extra caring to her Mother than to anyone else. Her Mother stepped into the room, her cheeks already stained with tears as she quietly shut the door. A horrified gasp escaped her poor Mother's lips and she quickly ran other to her daughter, sobbing in pain from just looking at her own child like this. Her Mother lightly grabbed onto Emily, still too scared to hurt her broken body, crying heart out for her daughter.

One after one, the three closest members of the family went into Emily's hospital room, all of them coming out with red puffy eyes. They all cared so deeply for Emily and were scared for their lives to lose her. A couple days later, waves of intense pain hit Emily body as she woke up from her deep coma. She was alone in the room, it seemed it was just evening. A groan from the feeling of everything wrong with her body left Emily's lips, she squeezed her eyes shut even more, not daring to open them to harsh lights of the clean hospital room. After minutes of nauseating pain from almost every part of her body from the trauma, a nurse finally stepped into the room, quickly running over seeing that she was awake and in pain. The sweet nurse tried to calm her as she quickly switched some kind of bag that was connected with a tube to her arm. Soon, the medicine started to kick in and Emily breathed out heavily, laying back on the slightly uncomfortable bed. The nurse told Emily that she was going to call her family, to tell them that she was awake. Out of exhaustion from the pain, also the medicine making Emily a bit drowsy, she feel asleep once more, drifting back into slumber...

Emily woke up to the soft sobbing and whispering of her mother, oh goodness did she knew that voice and how she missed it. Her eyes lazily fluttered open and she tried her best make a sweet smile to comfort her mother, it only coming out a little wrong. Her Mother quickly gasped from joy but yet sadness still grew onto her face, "Hunny! My god, you're awake! We were so worried about you!" Her Father and brother Kevin stepped in closer, surrounding Emily with the people who loved her dearly...
Three months later, Emily was finally released from the hospital, but soon dreaded it after. Emily was in relief to finally get out, so she could get back to her normal life and see her wonderful friends. Her new appearance didn't bother her too much, but it was something she was going to have to get used to. Her welcome back to her home was sweet, nothing big but, still heart warming from her family. She relaxed back into her home and hung out with her older brother and parents, just having a nice day to settle back in.
About five days later, it was time for Emily to get back to school. She had gotten as much of her work done in the time as she could, which would help pick up her grade. It was the morning before starting school again for Emily, and she had gotten as well dressed as she could, wanting to make a good comeback with her friends. Emily thought the whole day was going to be nice and sweet, telling her friends about the crazy experiences and laughing about it all, but boy was she wrong.

Too scared of walking down a normal street ever again, she had her mother drive her there instead, her mother was taking off work to spend the next days helping her daughter get back into her home. Emily had her hair pulled back into a low ponytail, not thinking of the consequences for showing off her knew deep and dark scar. Once she stepped out of the car and said her goodbyes to her mother, Emily something was wrong. Her lovely friends weren't sitting at the corner of the school like they always used to. She squinted her green hazel eyes in confusion and just shrugged, pushing it off easily, just thinking maybe they had something important to do. Walking up the front of the school, everyone stared at her new face, some cringing in fear and some making faces in disgust. Emily got more and more disheartened, 'Maybe they just need to get used to it. That's all...' she told herself, not wanting to get down for nothing on her first day back. Not being able to find her group of friends, Emily just decided to get to class and speak with them sometime later.

As soon as Emily stepped into her first class, every single head turned towards her as the door shut behind her. Gasps, jaw-drops, and looks of terror filled the room. It seemed the Math teacher was a bit late, so everyone was talking with their friends, huddled in each of their corners. This time, it seemed the popular group had gotten bigger, that was only because her friends seemed to have joined it. Emily's eyes widen as she saw her friends, quickly walking over to them and pulling one of them in a deep hug. "I've missed you so much! Yo-" She was soon cut off with being quickly pushed away and almost falling backwards, her face grew wildly in shock. "Get the fuck off of me, you freak!" It had came from her own friends mouth... What was wrong with her? "What do you mean?! I'm your best friend, remember!?" Chuckles starting coming from the group and her friend stepped up, walking closer to Emily. "You're not my friend! You're some ugly freak with a ugly scar on your damn face! Who would be friends with you!?!" Emily was frozen still, not knowing how to react, what to say.. What had happen when she was gone? Why are people acting like this?! How can they say such things!?! "I-I-I.." Emily managed to get out. Her 'friend' smirked, seeing that she wasn't getting it. "You're too dumb to understand, huh? No. One. Likes. You anymore. We were only your friend for your looks, and we can see that's gone now.." Laughs erupted from the class and the others started to get in closer, staring at the too scared of frozen girl to death. This didn't make any sense to her, she was still pretty.... Right? Others started to pitch in, "Ugly bitch." "Dumb ass Whore." "Scar face." "Aww.. The loser broke her already ugly and fat face." Everyone's terrible words were starting to get to her, the tears started to prick in her eyes and she quickly ran out of the room, loud laughs coming from behind her. Tears of pain and brokenness streamed down her face wildly, she ran and ran down the hallways, never wanting to stop and face the truth. All their voices ran through her mind, making more and more mental pain hit her hard. Emily finally found a bathroom, slamming the door behind her and locking it shut. She covered her face, sobbing loudly into her hands, breaking down from all the emotions going on inside her. Emily slowly removed her hands, looking into the bathroom mirror, looking at the red puffy eye girl, now with a ugly scar that she didn't like. Emily ripped her ponytail out, her long dirty blonde hair swaying into her face, almost covering all of her scar, almost.

Throughout the whole day, everything was the same, disgusted looks, laughing, their names and words. Emily now had tried her best to keep her scar covered by her hair, much different from how she wore it earlier. Once the day of new horror was over for Emily, she waited by the bus stop to take the bus home, not wanting to bother her mother. The light tapping of tall high heels slapped against the pavement, making Emily turn her head to see who it was. It was, of course, the gang of popular ones, now holding one of her oldest friends, or new bully. "Seems we have some roadkill here." the rude girl commented, making everyone chuckle behind her. Emily looked down at her feet, "J-just leave me alone.." she mumbled quietly. The other girl raised her eyebrow, stepping close to Emily and pushing her hard, making her stumble back. "What the fuck did you just say to me!" After that moment, Emily knew she was screwed. She was shoved again, this time pushing her to the ground and making her land of her back. The whole group of teens surrounded her, with evil grins on their faces and terrible words flying out their mouths. But, they soon took a different action other than name calling. "Trash." the popular one said, before kicking Emily hard in her side, making Emily groan in pain and buckle over. They all repeatedly kicked her, someone got a punch in too.

Finally, they were done with Emily. She had millions of bruises along her sides and stomach and she even split out a bit of her own blood. In a crowd of laughter, they left her to lay down on the sidewalk, her whole body aching in pain. Once she got the power to push herself off the ground, she took at her old cell phone and called her mother, not caring to go anywhere alone where her new bullies would be. Her mother showed up in the school parking lot, by the time she got there, Emily had tried cleaning herself up, not looking so dirty and in pain. Slowly Emily opened the door to the car and got in carefully, holding in all noises of pain from her mother. She gave her mother a warming smile and they drove back home, her mother blind to her own daughter's pain.

Through the two years, things just got worse and worse for Emily, the bullying progressed wildly and her attitude towards life changed. She wasn't the giddy, loud, and always smiling girl anymore. She was now the quiet girl who covered up her arms and sat in the back corner wanting to die. Things in her household turned for a worse also, her older brother Kevin started to get into dangerous drugs, always coming home high or drunk. That became a burdened for her poor mother and father, slowly taring them apart day by day.

Emily lost all hope by the time she was 18, the scars on her arms and legs were so large and deep, she sometimes thought she was going to bleed by picking a scab. Her weight lowered, her bones peeking through her pale skin. She was like a walking zombie, with black and blue bruises all over her body from herself and her bullies. She would get no more sleep, she was too busy trying to quiet her sobs so her family couldn't hear. She thought she was ugly, no she knew she was ugly. The large ugly scar on her face ruining her life, giving her no meaning just but, scar face. Emily couldn't take it any longer, she knew she was just ruining her own families joys and dreams by being alive and she was just a plain shadow in her school that was only given attention when getting a beating. Finally, Emily said no, and took her own life by slitting her throat in the family's bathroom tub.

Holy shit @Gore. You went from bun. to Gore and that was a surprise to see.

@Yuomi When you say Special Trait, are you talking about a physical trait of their's that is remarkable or a mental trait that makes them special? If it's the latter, I'm thinking of making it an eidetic (photographic) memory; if it's the former, I've got no clue whatsoever.

I'll get back to writing then. My guy is, admittedly, kind of an ass and I want him to be able to mesh with the other characters while have tension from personalities not getting along. Hope having a... haughty character will work out.​

Full Name: Riane Esther PriceAge & Birthday: 14, April 13th, 2003Eye Description: Dark brownHair Description: Long, wavy, brownHeight: 4'11"Weight: 99lbsPiercings: NoneMarkings and Birthmarks: NoneSpecial trait:
Riane moves very quietly, and has a talent for blending into the background and avoiding notice. Unless someone is seeking her specifically, she can be "invisible," almost like a ninja.

Personality:

Riane is painfully shy, especially around other teenagers. She almost never speaks unless spoken to. She avoids drawing attention to herself whenever possible. She finds refuge in mathematics, geometry, and science. Riane doesn't care about clothes, and has never bothered to learn how to put on makeup. For about as long as she can remember, Riane has looked forward to her own death. When she saw someone being killed in a movie, she often envied them. Bang! Bang! They fall to the ground--perfect peace, forever. When she heard about a shooting spree or other scene of death, she wished she could have been there to take the place of one of the victims. To trade her worthless, unwanted life for someone else's infinitely precious one; Riane could not imagine anything better. She never understood how other people can fear death, or struggle heroically to stay alive.

Biography:

Riane's parents had everything all planned out before they married. They'd have a son and a daughter, the perfect Leave It To Beaver Family. They got the daughter they wanted, Riane's older sister Danae. Born with an adorable dimply face and a head of curly blonde hair, Danae only became more perfect as she grew. They waited a couple years, then conceived again, and got...Riane. Riane's dad was the most disappointed, especially when Riane didn't have the decency to become a tomboy who liked sports, but turned into a quiet, solitary bookworm instead.

Riane grew up in the shadow of her older sister, Mom and Dad's perfect golden girl. Music, sports, drama, cheerleading, popularity, good grades; Danae did it all. Then one day, everything changed: Danae became pregnant at 17. For awhile, Riane became, if not the favorite, at least a contender for the position. Danae's jealousy was stirred. When Riane entered high school, Danae joined the Mean Girls and bullies in making her life a living Hell.

Then, everything changed again: Danae's baby was going to be a boy. Suddenly, Danae was back in the spotlight. Riane's dad started setting up a "boy's bedroom" and eagerly anticipating the arrival of his grandson, the boy he'd always wanted. As soon as Aaron was born he took over the world, or at least Riane's household, as babies often do. Everything revolved around The Baby. Riane all but disappeared, so much so that her parents forgot her 14th birthday. As much as it hurt, she was also glad: there was no pressure to invite friends she didn't have to a party, no need to field questions about what presents she wanted, no need to witness her family making the effort to give her love and attention instead of having it happen naturally the way it did for Danae and Aaron.

Bullying story:

From her first day of school, Riane had always been a prime target for bullies. Being shoved, beaten up, stuffed upside down into garbage cans, tripped from behind, having her head shoved into a toilet for a "swirlie," it was all par for the course.

One of Riane's favorite places was 'the Gorge,' a 400-foot deep canyon just outside of town. She liked to ride her bike there, then stand near the center of the bridge that crossed it, looking down into the frothing rapids below. Sometimes she would just enjoy the sound of the rushing water and the scenic vista of craggy canyon walls; other times, she would fantasize about plummeting down.

Once some kids from school spotted her there as they drove past. Instead of continuing on their way, they parked and came out onto the bridge. "Omigod! Riane's gonna jump!" a girl said, giggling. "Jump! Jump! Jump!" they chanted. Clinging to the railing as she looked over and down, Riane was sorely tempted. She was sure it would make them deliriously happy, and be the talk of the school for months if she did. And yet, a part of her wanted to deny them that joy, spite them, refuse to let them win. Then there was her family. Whether they would actually miss her or not, they were certainly supposed to. If there was one thing that society made abundantly clear, it was that suicide was Not Okay. The person killing themselves was selfish, cowardly, or both, even deserving of a miserable hereafter; if not Hell, then something like the eternity of drudgery in the celestial bureaucracy portrayed in Beetlejuice. Those left behind had to suffer recriminations: whose fault was it? Because, whenever someone expresses a suicidal thought, it is the solemn duty of everyone around them to rush to their 'aid,' urge them to 'get help,' google up the number for a suicide hotline on their smartphone and dial it, if not duct tape the would-be suicide to the wall in an institution somewhere and feed them antidepressants. And if the thought is not expressed, the family 'should have known' and 'done something' anyway. Because Life Is Precious.™

And so, Riane stayed where she was, looking down into the water. They would either tire of their sport and go away, or come over and pitch her off. A win either way. It was OK to be a murder victim, after all. For awhile, life would really suck for the ones that actually stepped up and did it, so sweet revenge. But they'd be tried as juveniles and probably get some kind of commuted sentence or other, so it wouldn't ruin their whole lives. Riane wasn't vindictive enough to want that, especially when she was really starting to hope she'd feel their hands seizing her arms and legs at any moment.

Behind her, she heard a car pull up and stop. Danae, riding with some of her own friends, who joined in the chanting. Not realizing the danger, and caught up in mob psychology, Danae laughed and joined the chorus. At the sound of that exquisite, familiar voice, Riane turned and met her eyes. It was as if a switch had been flipped in her head. Riane climbed up onto the railing, and without even a moment's hesitation to give Danae or anyone else a chance to say they didn't mean it and beg her not to, Riane flung herself out into the air, arms outstretched to embrace her end.

One black ✖ on his left wrist. Birthmarks on his left collarbone, right ankle, and right forearm.

S p e c i a l
T r a i t

Holding in his negativity. It can be months before he cracks.

P e r s o n a l i t y

Strong spirited. Confusing for him to be such a lost soul after this unfortunate death of his, but he lasted for a long time. Under a lot of pressure. He's a person who believes that there's always a second chance, there's always redemption for your wrongs. He believes that you are you, and you have to learn to live with you or you'll never be happy. You need to adapt to you in any way possible. He's abrasive, straight-forward. He'll look you in the eye and retort without a blink. He'll leave the filter out to give it to you straight, if you want. However, he has crippling tendencies to internalize his negativity, mostly his sadness and his rage. His hope holds out for a while, until it all becomes too much and breaks. He's prone to huge emotional outbursts that can lead him to do regretful things, act entirely different. Venomously angry. Horribly depressed. Hotly fierce, far too sensitive. He has hurt himself in these times of such intense emotion, and he must have gone too far to do this.

B i o g r a p h y

Born and raised low class. His parents were always struggling, always arguing about splitting the bills and taking on more jobs. A constant battle against their finances. They married young and fought often, but they did not separate. They wanted to become something better, they were determined. A night of long-awaited pleasure for both of them led to an unknowingly broken condom, which led to strange morning sickness and eventually, a stick that came out saying 'positive' for a baby. Yes, Adrian was a complete accident. They had a long discussion, and decided that abortion was too cruel for them. They couldn't do it.
They dipped into a period of extreme poverty while Adrian's mother was pregnant. Unable to work, the financial responsibility was doubled on his father's part, and it was a stressful time. The couple finally gave birth to Adrian, but they named him based on his biologically female gender - Aislinn.
The little girl (during this time) grew up in a neighborhood that was never peaceful. No suburban comfort - a little old-looking house at the end of a cul-de-sac, lined with other little ratty places. A neighborhood where luxury was nonexistent, where kids grew up in practical ghettos. It wasn't a mansion, but it was home for most of the little girl's life.
The little girl grew up in a public school that wasn't classy. It was as mediocre as you could get it. She learned the lay of a more wild type of terrain in her education, picked up bits and pieces of her personality. She was always a tomboy, a kid who only made friends with the guys, a kid who hated pink because all the girls were so crazy about it. This little girl grew up to become a boy at heart, a boy inside. Her teenage years revealed this more and more, grew on this. Her discomfort with having breasts, with estrogen and femininity. She felt trapped in a body that she didn't belong in. She was a boy, not a girl, and it got severe enough that it sent her into near panic attacks with the thoughts and stress of it all.
She researched on gender identities. She found out about there being different sexual identities in the world - specifically, transsexuals. And it was there that Aislinn suddenly knew what he was. He was not Aislinn the girl - he was a boy. He soon found a proper name for himself, Adrian, and suddenly, his whole life flipped.
His parents were so stressed, they believed it was a phase. Nothing more than a silly teenage fantasy. They dismissed him, calling him Aislinn even when he expressed his preference for Adrian. Calling him she and her when he stated that he preferred he and him. They didn't understand the struggles he was facing, and were too tired to learn. So, Adrian took care of himself. He'd steal money and get it through any means possible to buy binders and more fitting clothing for himself.
But this content and self-care wouldn't last when the rumors started to spread like a virus.

B u l l y i n g
S t o r y

Adrian's transsexuality, his transitioning, was caught by the students at his school. Children watched him, stared at his chest to see there was nothing there due to his binding. Watched him cut his hair short. Watched him become more of himself. And they didn't understand. Like his parents, teachers that Adrian spoke to about his preferences and pronouns dismissed him. They didn't allow that in their classrooms, they didn't allow acceptance.
And the students started to follow suit. It started as whispers floating through the air like wisps of steam. Speculations, rumors. As these rumors became compounded with hatred, jealousy, and disgust, they turned into murmurs. He heard them. They escalated, into comments, daily remarks. Children did not understand. They didn't realize how real it was, how real Adrian's inner turmoil was, how valid. They started to give him nasty looks and pitying smiles. They jeered at him behind his back. They thought it was funny, some act he was putting on.
This did not cease rising in intensity. It soon turned to backhanded insults that pierced him each day. Growing up in such a poor community helped sculpt him to know how to defend against this, how to stay strong. They didn't care. He slathered on masks of sarcasm and spite to cover up his bleeding heart that yearned for acceptance. That yearned for love. Nobody cared. The insults did not break escalation.
Soon, 'tranny' and 'drama queen' became popular for him. They called to him in these charged-up tones and would recieve ice cold glares seething with pain underneath. Home was no better. There was so little to find peace with. It all metastasized, growing and leeching away his energy. He was getting tired. Nothing felt worth the effort. He was developing depression.
He soon gathered a ring of bullies that particularly messed with him day by day. They loved to watch his shoulders tense with each word. They sucked him dry every day with overused insults, they loved every second. They thought it was funny to make him suffer. He hated it. He wanted to hurt all of them. He wanted acceptance. He desperately yearned to have it.
But soon, he started to lose hope. He started to blame himself.Why are you like this? Why can't you be normal? Why do you have to be a boy, isn't a girl enough for you? Why, why? The pain felt like knives slicing through him from the inside out. It was agonizing. He was holding it in, holding it in. Why are you such a piece of shit? What they say about you is right! You're just a tranny, you're worthless! Headaches, sickness, vomiting, desperately trying to stay away from everyone.Why don't you just die?
The second that he first thought about it, he suddenly realized that there was always that path to go. And each day, he'd walk in the door, and see so many means of doing it everywhere around him. Pills. Knives. He'd walk to school, and look at tall buildings, and wonder if they had roof access. Escape.
Things began to get worse. He didn't eat. His parents couldn't notice. He couldn't sleep. His parents slowly started to see damage on him. He couldn't do anything each school day except for walk and let his eyes well with tears, as they shouted. His eyes were red every day, from crying silently in the bathrooms. His parents started to feel even more worried, realizing that something was wrong, that there was real damage going on that they didn't know about.
And though they planned to talk to him about it, it wasn't soon enough.
A night came where his limit was reached. He had an outburst. But .. it wasn't a spontaneous blast of emotion. No, this was a vent, a steady vent that released every held-in drop of anger and pain and sorrow into cold, solemn silence.
He knew what he was going to do.
He took a big bottle of pills. He was ready.
He closed the door to his room. He was ready.
He sat down and he wrote his last words. Front and back were filled with words of departure. Sadness filled him. His hand shook as he finished it. Tears streamed down his cheeks.
There was no acceptance. There was no love.
He took the letter and he sat down on his bed. He bound his chest, as he always would. A last statement to his true self. He placed the letter neatly beside him and he laid down.
And he opened that bottle, and he hesitated. I am ready. I am ready.
He poured out as much of it's contents as possible and, with a sob, with a rush of adrenaline, he swallowed all in his hand in one go. And he swallowed the rest down after. He swallowed his hopes and dreams for a better life, he swallowed the pain and the torture of living. He rested his head on his pillow and cried. He cried, and cried, until his head started to spin, until he could feel the pills taking their toll, until his heart pumped so fast in his chest that it felt like it might explode.
And he faded away. And he felt like a cloud drifting through the sky.
And he was gone.

Eye Description: Most would describe Oscar's eyes as a neutral blue, which get lighter in the sun. He has deep set circles and the whites are usually a pink colour.

Hair Description:Short and choppy, never styled. It usually looks a light brown and fluffy, looks thin.

Height: 6ft

Weight:140

Piercings: N/A.

Markings and Birthmarks: N/A.

Special trait:Oscar always remembers his dreams. His mind is extraordinarily active and he'll be able to remember every last detail. A lot of the the the dreams will be just as odd and soft like himself, and he often writes down what he remembers.

Personality:Oscar is quiet and soft. He likes to keep to himself but if you're offering to listen, Oscar will be more than happy to talk to you. He's very delicate and cries easily. He'll try his hardest not to cry in front of people, but it's easily done. Mostly because if something doesn't go his way, he'll get easily frustrated and has a bad temper. Obviously nothing to be afraid of, Oscar doesn't throw fists or shout loudly. Meeting new people or seeing new things interests Oscar. He's very curious and enjoys learning new things. He's absorbed into his fantasy world and is eager to learn about myths and stories. Oscar also loves listening. If you have stories, Oscar is already sitting down and waiting to hear. This also makes him childishly minded. He is somewhat innocent and naive still. He blushes when somebody talks about kissing, let alone sex. It's easy to amuse him and he's more than happy to explore the woods like he's a mythical creature.Getting to know him more, Oscar can prove to be philosophical. Despite his childish act, Oscar does like to talk about life and death. He's a good conversation and isn't boring if you think like him.

Biography:Oscar was born in a small village in Sweden. His father was never known to him, his mother was single. They were poor and Oscar was a skinny child.
His Mother died from pneumonia when he was 1. He was moved to live in an orphanage, which was a poor place. When he was old enough, they told him stories of the fairy folk of the forests. They fed him myths and legends which he ate happily. He was taught very basic math when he got older, but they never taught him science. Oscar proved to be an intelligent child. He began reading and enjoying many novels. It was soon that he had read all the books in the orphanage, then he had read all the books from the library. Unfortuantly for Oscar, he was never adopted or fostered. Most of his friends left when they were adopted, leaving Oscar to become more withdrawn. But he was never upset about it. Instead, he'd stop speaking to others and began moving into his own world of magic and myths.
As he got into his young teen years, Oscar never matured. He continued to believe in magic and never went out with the other orphans, who found fun by drinking and dancing out at night. He kept to himself and enjoyed being alone.
At 18, Oscar was told he had to leave, now he was an adult. He decided to move to America to get a degree in literature, so he could become a writer. When he moved, he got in just about with his English. Here was where he learnt to mature slightly. All seemed well.

Bullying story: In college, it became clear to Oscar he was going to have to talk. With his non-existent knowledge of social interaction, the other students found him awkward and weird. It began by people laughing behind his back at his soft, almost impossible to understand accent. He sounded weird to them. When people pried into Oscar, he wasn't afraid to tell them about his belief and love for the fantasy world. Combined with his naivety and accent, Oscar quickly became the target for bullies. It hit Oscar where he was softest, and quickly pushed him back into his shell. Before he was quiet because he liked it, now, he was so because he had to be.
He managed to make a friend with a sympathetic girl named Laura. Laura tried her best to understand him, and he soon warmed up to her.
As Oscar was around boys more often, he felt a strange feeling towards one of the handsome ones. He had never been told about sex, relationships or homosexuality. Or any sexuality. He was downright confused about why he was feeling so red around this boy. Deciding to ask Laura what you did if you felt something odd for another person, she mistook it as interest for her. She urged him to kiss this mysterious person.
This turned out to be a mistake. Innocently, and in front of everyone, Oscar boldly went as mushed his lips up against the other male. The unsuspecting student freaked out and punched Oscar right in the face. It made him burst into tears. Now, people began bullying him loudly to his face. As people began calling him 'Fairy boy' Laura stopped talking to him. Partially because she felt guilt, partially because she felt embarrassment.
--
Oscar finally got into a university to study literature. His reputation wasn't keen to leave him. Everybody avoided the 'fairy boy'. However, Oscar had finally seen his own innocence and was shocked that he could of been so naive. His English improved and his love for fantasy didn't diminish. He only hid it from others.
Now he was writing his own stories, Oscar tried hard to hide his journals and notepads from his roommate.
His reputation still lingered. People still made fun of him lightly but his skin got a little tougher. He wasn't going to cry every time somebody was mean.
Or so he thought. One night his roommate found all of Oscars little stories and diary, and decided to show the internet. Oscar logged online to see that pictures of his most heartfelt stories were there, being laughed at.
And that was enough to crush him. If he couldn't be himself in this world, why be in the world? The earth could do without another gay author who still believes in magic. He began to shake as he decided that the world didn't need him. No, it didn't want him.
Oscar went into their cabinet to find painkillers and whatever else his roommate owned. As he collected them, he picked up what was left of the sheets of paper from his journal. He quickly got into his car and drove down the dark roads into the deeper part of the forrests. Waiting for him was the lake, which was murky and freezing. Oscar cried as he swallowed all the pills he could fit, shaking as he got closer to the edge. Without hesitation, Oscar hugged the sheets and shut his eyes tightly before he plummeted into the freezing cold water.
Oscar was quickly knocked unconscious by the temperature as he floated into the body of water. The pills finally took Oscar away as he became one with nature.

Devon RaskAge:
20 years old Birthday:
January 8, 1997Eye Description:
Hidden behind heavy lids, Devon's eyes make him out to seem unobservant, bored, and haughty from a cursory glance but only the latter two are ever true. At a closer look, they are so dark blue that they are black, and bright with the fevered look of someone with too many thoughts.Hair Description:
Devon's hair could be described as "inky black" rather than the shade of brown it really is. It lays in fluffy disarray on top of his head. The tips like to curl both outward and inward on their own behalf, leaving him with a different hairstyle every time he were to peer into a mirror.Height:
178 cm (5 feet, 10 inches)Weight:
82 kg (181 pounds)Piercings:
NoneMarkings and Birthmarks:
NoneSpecial trait:
Wielding an eidetic memory, Devon is capable of memorizing events and recalling them with accuracy and precision.Personality:
Devon prefers communication through his actions rather than words. All of his movements carry a crafted deliberateness to them as if every single thing he does has a purpose, lending him a grace others his age have yet to gain. Though his actions are cultivated, they have two-sided connotations when he employs them. An arched eyebrow could convey amusement or condescension, a quirk of the lips could mean satisfaction or arrogance, his chin resting on folded hands could be made out to be interest or boredom entirely dependent on the tilt of his head. And a blank face could mean nothing at all or everything at once.

Inherently he is passionate and relaxed, intrigued by everything he sees; haughty and apathetic, believing himself to be something else and hard pressed to become sympathetic to the plights of others; he wishes to fade into the background to do what he wants without attention, but his lack of voice is glaringly obvious in the chatter filling up everyone else's lives.Biography:
He grew up in a home surrounded by trees in Washington. The house itself was an architectural feat whilst the interior designing was a masterpiece. His parent's work, their passion, bled into their domestic life. That left never seemed to include Devon. Both his mum and dad were always off on some business venture or other, leaving him to his own devices as a child. He remembered a young nanny who smiled ever so softly and wore her clothing immaculately in the background of his childhood. She wasn't much of a maternal figure either (more of a pretty wall fixture), but she fed him nevertheless. Inadvertently she, Emilia Vivas, taught him the subtlety of unspoken words and he mastered the art of body language. He never did speak much when he was young.

Devon's schooling was always a topic on the receiving end of disdainful shudders. How could he argue for tutors or home and cyber schooling instead if he could only do so through his worst medium, spoken language? He attended a private school an hour away filled with the "brilliant next generation" of only those capable of shelling out the money. Private schools always did love children who dutifully went "Yes, Madam," and "No, Professor," at the faculty's prompting. He was not fondly regarded by those at Caeceus Preparatory Academy in his twelve years there.

He garnered few friends who understood he didn't speak because he didn't want to, not that he detested their company. Many were intrigued, few stayed by his side. The dislike was obvious in others' overtly conspicuous body language directed his way, fellow students goading him into speech, and the mocking of those he liked. He never uttered a word to them; he refused to give them the satisfaction. Devon was glad when he graduated and left. The next stepping stone in his life was to go to college, it was after all, the gateway to his own life.Bullying story:
College was the most probable reason for his eventual offing, if Devon would look back on it. It was a grand university with a sprawling campus and courses he knew he'd enjoy. Thankfully it was far away from Washington, his parents wouldn't be able to give him false promises of visits and meet ups only to cancel last minute. He would settle there for four years to major in both media and liberal arts, finding people he would forge friendships and lifelong bonds with if what everyone told him was true.

He moved into his dormitory to find his roommate and his girlfriend one step away from stripping. The roommate-best friend deal never happened between the two of them; in fact, Devon usually had the room to himself. He was fine with that, really. Classes were fine, everything was great. People tried talking to him and were frustrated when he said nothing in reply. In one class, the professor had paired him and a particularly impatient fellow, Parker Lake, together to do a graded performance in front of the class. They had one week for a five minute skit and tempers rose. Devon would have outright refused to do any performing, perfectly content with doing all the other work. Both Parker and their instructor told him he had to say something to get full marks. He would speak as little as he could, it wasn't as if he wouldn't be able to memorize the lines.

On the day of their performance, Devon was frazzled and anxious. Not that he let it show. All he wanted to do was direct, to record, to watch and edit; not actually be on camera and be the observed instead of the observer. He had seen Parker rehearse, the guy was a showman at heart. Devon had taught himself to enunciate clearly for the whole week, he knew he was capable of saying dialogue. When it was their turn, he was enthralled as Parker took over the stage. So enthralled that he forgot both his queue and his line. There was silence as Devon glanced around, wide-eyed at the glaring Parker and his awaiting classmates. Finally, he was able to choke out his lines.

"Th-there is n-nothing t-to th-the w-world, b-but," his stutter came out. He saw them snicker at his speech impediment. Parker smirked from across the stage. His professor continued to eye him with impatience. He continued on, visibly shaking. "B-but th-the m-meek and th-the p-preyed up-p-pon." The consonants tripped him up, they always had no matter how much speech therapy he took. He finished his line though and let Parker make everyone forget about him just like he preferred. He returned to his seat, the others had laughed at him but there was no mocking.

It was the day after that it began, like everyone he met knew he had a speech disorder. They would speak loudly when he was around to stutter just as he did. They'd laugh as he said nothing because they knew. Before they thought he was an elitist brat who wouldn't talk to them, now they knew he couldn't talk to anyone. It was like private school all over again except they knew exactly what he was. The year continued that way. There was nothing like physical trauma or fights in back alleys, but it was the mockery. The ruining of his carefully crafted appearance, the taunting and the laughter. It was when they stole his camera that he snapped. The camera was a gift from his parents, it held everything he had every recorded. It was returned in pieces without the memory card. Someone had uploaded it online. The film was both his video diary and his own speech therapist in one.

Others would watch it in front of him, laughing and teasing him. Parker had even went so far as to put up a projector to view it in class. Devon burned with fury. His blank face told nothing. Later that week, he bought a new camera. Something that would only be used once to record his last words. His roommate was very much into illegal dealings. There were guns stashed in his drawers. He filmed his final farewells. Good tidings to mum and dad, reasoning as to what he would do. He would let himself speak as he would naturally.

"M-my d-dear v-viewers. On th-this d-day, I w-will h-have sh-shot m-myself th-through th-the r-roof of m-my m-mouth w-with th-the use of S-Sylvan Ch-chessf-feld's r-revolver." Devon imperiously sat on his bed in front of the camera. He held up the gleaming gun in his hands for the camera to see. Slowly, his stutter went away as he continued to talk. "Mine will be a m-masterful suicide. It will be paced with no rushing or heroes to c-come in to save me. I have locked all p-possible entrances. I am d-doubtful whether any of you will come to s-save me regardless if you had known w-what I will do." He gave a little smirk there.

"You will say that suicide is the c-coward's way out. I just know it." Glaring into the lens, he stopped smirking. "You could never be farther from the truth. This act takes a tremendous amount of courage. I will turn the audio off and leave this on. When you watch this, do put some swelling orchestral music behind it will you?" Devon switched off the microphone, camera still on. He leaned back on the bed, gun in hand. He flicked the safety off and heard someone knocking at his door. He cocked it in his mouth, someone rattled the doorknob. He could hear yelling and people gathering outside.

He closed his eyes one final time as his finger pressed the trigger.Likes:​

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